


But Trust Me to Take You Home

by Alecks_Lee



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Alternate Universe - Shapeshifter Abilities, Canon-Typical Violence, Crying During Sex, Date Rape, Emetophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Myra is mentioned but like only once or twice, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Human Genitalia, Panic Attacks, Poly Losers if You Squint, Rape Recovery, Richie is not the one who hurts Eddie just so we’re clear, Semi-Slow Burn, Vague Mentions/References to Past Child Abuse, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alecks_Lee/pseuds/Alecks_Lee
Summary: Written for the Labor Day Book Quote Challenge using“Please Mommy I’m suffocating I can’t BREATHE oh my dear God oh dear Jesus meekandmild I can’t BREATHE please I don’t want to die don’t want to die oh please—”—Eddie just wants to live his life. He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t want this. He just wants to be normal. To be happy. Why does life always have to throw him a curveball?
Relationships: Connor Bowers/Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40
Collections: Labor Day Book Quote Challenge (2020)





	But Trust Me to Take You Home

It’s funny, Eddie thinks, that as things change they still always sort of stay the same.

He was always alone as a kid, the loner in a small town, because his mother didn’t want him to have friends.

_“You don’t need anyone else Eddie-bear, not when you have your Mommy.”_

The word still makes him shudder in disgust and discomfort.

But, he made friends anyway. She called them dirty and filthy and disgusting. “Especially that _wolf_ , don’t let him touch you Eddie-bear, he’s a violent predator.” And Eddie still loved them more than anything. _Especially_ the wolf.

In hindsight it makes sense but at the time he thought it was his own little act of rebellion from his overprotective mother. Preferring the company of the “dirty predator” when he _knew_ his mom disapproved.

But he knows better now. Either way, he thinks he owes a lot to _all_ of his friends.

The six of them helped him to come out of his shell enough to be braver and stand up for himself more often. Helped him learn that just because someone swears doesn't mean they’re “Evil sinners who’re going to Hell, Eddie.” Just because he doesn’t like it when his mom is overbearing doesn't mean he’s not a loving person.

Just because he doesn’t want to suffocate under her embrace and misguided sense of love, doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to show love and affection to people _he_ loves.

And he loves his friends. All of them. Some more than others, sure, but each of them holds a special place in his heart.

Bev, being the cunning fox she is, taught him how to rebel in little ways against his mother’s overbearing attitude, like making friends with a wolf, even when his mother constantly told him to “Be careful Eddie, she’s a _tricky fox_ and she’s _dirty._ ”

Bill, as a lion, was a good leader, even when he stumbled over his words and lacked confidence, he was a good leader to their little group. Eddie’s mom tolerated him, said it was fine since Bill was so nice, “Not like that _vulgar_ Tozier boy.”

Ben and Stan, the duo of dogs, one a golden retriever and the other a labrador, taught him that having a pack is a welcome thing and even non relatives can be packmates. (Though, even to this day, he hates the term pack, it feels so dehumanizing to him, but he loves his friends and if Ben wants to cry on his shoulder about how much he loves his pack, well, who is Eddie to deny him that right?)

Mike and Richie were arguably the two his mom hated the most, as a bear and wolf respectively (“They’re your mortal enemies, Eddie-bear. They eat deer in the wild all the time.”), and they taught him how to use his words to hurt people and to comfort them. And how to use humor to cope with the bad shit that went down.

And it went down _a lot._

As the only deer in their group, really damn near the only deer in town, he relied heavily on them for a long time. He didn’t have antlers for most of his young adult life, barely had lost his spots by age 13. So his friends usually acted as a barrier to the outside world, fiercely protective and loyal to him, they felt more like home than his mother did. They still do.

On the other hand…

He kind of understands now, as hands grope at him in the dark dingy alley. He understands why his mom always told him not to take things from strangers and why predator shifters are dangerous.

Part of him, a big part, thinks he deserves it, being what he is. What he is, is bad. Is _sinful_. Of course, growing up in a small town will do that to you, but even if there's an explanation it’s difficult for Eddie to come to terms and accept what he is.

To him, even now as an adult in his 30’s, it feels sinful being gay. Preferring the company of men to the company of women feels like a bad thing, but this man—Connor? Was that what he said his name was?—hadn’t seemed so bad. He was a wolf and Eddie knew, he _knew_ , part of the reason he accepted the advances was because of that fact. Because he was a wolf. Like Richie.

But more than that he had made Eddie feel _wanted._ Like he was amazing and loved. Eddie just wanted to feel something. Something other than the crushing loneliness that surrounds him even when his friends are there. Something other than the cloying desperation that still clings to his skin from his mother, and the sympathetic and pitying looks from his friends.

He hadn’t wanted to deal with that. Not after the funeral. And _certainly_ not after his divorce. Myra had been his mother's choice and as soon as she passed he jumped ship.

Which, granted, was probably a bad idea. Especially considering as soon as he left for the funeral he had given Myra his divorce papers. And oh boy, had she hated _that_. She had hissed and spit and for all intents and purposes looked exactly like a pissed off cat would. But he wouldn’t be swayed, not this time, not after two decades of being shoved to the side and treated like a child, he had already packed and was ready to leave.

Which he did. He didn’t go back to Myra. He had no intention of doing so. He never would.

So he went to the funeral, one final thing for his mother, before he moved on with his life. And it was held in good old Derry, the place that never changed. Except this time it didn't feel suffocating, it felt _freeing._

And driving away from Derry that very night, heading towards his future, he had—for the first time in a long time—felt optimistic. Hopeful of what the future held.

And when he saw all his friends again, the people Myra and his mother had _forced_ him to cut from his life—though he had kept in contact in secret, and thank God for that—he felt that sense of _belonging_ again. That sense of _family._ He held Bev in a tight hug and didn’t cry for the loss of his mother but for the gain of his friends again.

Which Bev understood, she had been there with her father, but they didn't talk about it at the restaurant that night. Instead they spend that night celebrating even though Eddie thinks maybe he shouldn’t be celebrating the death of his mother.

He wonders, in the recess of his mind—the part that isn’t hyper aware of his surroundings and can fully dissolve into memories until this is all over, as the hand grips him tighter and causes him to whimper—why he waited so long. After being around them again he felt stronger, like he was a predator too, and maybe he was high on endorphins but it was _fun._ He had _fun_ with his friends.

Maybe that familiarity is ultimately what caused his downfall. Because he came out to them that night, drunk on whatever cheap beer the restaurant had on tap. It wasn’t anything big and earth shattering, just a causual “I’m glad she’s dead, and I’m glad I’m separated from Myra, because my gay ass cannot handle another overbearing woman in my life.”

And the lack of surprise should have been more than enough of an indication that he wasn’t as subtle as he thought, but Bev had broken his train of thought before he could spiral and told him “Fuck yeah, get it, Eddie. I’m the only overbearing woman you’ll ever need, baby.” with an exaggerated wink, and he had _laughed_ , a genuine laugh he didn’t think he could do anymore after years with Myra and his mother and he felt like things were gonna be ok.

The hand gropes a little tighter, yanking him back to the present and he whines, suddenly feeling like a kid again, having an asthma attack on the forest floor outside their clubhouse. Body shaking as he fumbles with his inhaler while Richie and Bill panic around him. _Please Mommy I’m suffocating. I can’t breathe. Oh my God, please I don’t want to die._

Unbidden he cries out, fear and pain and terror coursing through him as his memories regress before he can stop them. _PLEASE Mommy! I can’t BREATHE._

He snaps his brain back to a better time, earlier tonight when he was with his friends and not in this dirty alley— _oh God, oh God, is that a needle? It is! Fuck! He’s gonna get fucking sick out here_ —being accosted by a wolf who’s scent is all wrong.

When Richie had said “Let’s go drinking, Eddie Spaghetti,” and then snorted at his own joke when he continued with, “Let’s get _you_ some spaghetti, haha, geddit?” which earned him some groans and an eye roll from Stan and Eddie.

But Eddie had agreed because being drunk sounded better than being sober when his friends would just _look_ at him like he was _pathetic_. But maybe he was. Being lovestruck tended to do that to make you feel and look pathetic. And he was well into his late 30s now, he knew better.

He knew better than to be in love with one of his best friends.

Especially with it being _Richie_. Eddie had never met a straighter man than Richie Tozier. His comedy routine told Eddie everything he needed to know about Richie’s sexuality. (Not to mention all the “I’m fucking your mom.” jokes from their childhood.) Which was part of the problem really. He knew Richie was straight and it never stopped him from having a crush as a kid or even now being attracted to him as an adult.

So he had flirted. Had let himself get some drinks from this strange man who seemed nice enough at the time and was a wolf with bright eyes and a sharp smile. He had pretended his heart _didn’t_ hurt when Richie was flirting with a woman who sat alone in the corner by the bathrooms. He had avoided Bev’s soft warning, and Bill’s sad eyes and Ben’s worried expression when he had been led from the club into the cool air outside.

But...in this alley, a hand down his pants as he tries to push the man away, he wonders if he was faking it. Maybe he isn’t _gay_. Maybe he just likes _Richie_. Maybe he doesn’t want just any man who comes onto him, maybe he just wants _Richie_ to be the one to treat him like he’s the world.

He would laugh at the realization if he didn’t feel so heavy. If he didn’t have this man pinning him to the wall with so much ease that Eddie wonders just who this guy is.

He tries to fight harder, realizing now, later than he should have, that this man had slipped something into his drink.

“Ssstop.” He slurs and he panics because he can feel himself losing his grasp on reality. His limbs are getting heavy and his brain is slowing down as his vision blurs and blackens at the edges. He wonders where his friends are for a moment, wonders if they know he’s missing and not welcoming these advances. And then he’s being kissed and he gags, outright _gags_ , on the taste of alcohol on this man’s tongue.

It makes the man laugh, a soft sound that Eddie can feel in his chest and makes him sob and try to get away again. It sounds so frightening and he wants to vomit on the ground, but he’s never been able to make himself vomit, so instead he struggles and wrinkles his nose at the taste the man leaves on his tongue.

He’s whiskey and scotch and beer and not at all the fruity shit Eddie and Richie had been throwing back together, acting as a team to get as shitfaced as possible _just for fun_ , though he thinks now, maybe Richie hadn’t been as drunk as he had.

_Oh God, had Richie set this up?!_

But...No, no Richie had left to piss and then this guy had swooped in and Eddie, seeing Richie flirting with some faceless girl in the corner, had succumbed and flirted back.

He kicks himself for thinking this man wanted him for anything but a quick fuck. Had wanted him for anything but to be another prey shifter accosted in a dark alley, and the thought makes him sob and try to close his legs, try to get the man to let him go.

“Aw, sweet little doe, don’t be shy. Let me _see_.” And then he’s pulling Eddie’s dick out and Eddie is _humiliated_ because this isn’t how it should be. His first time with a man should not be this traumatizing. It shouldn't be in this dark alley with this stranger while hes fucking _drugged._

 _Roofies. He drugged me with roofies._ His mind unhelpfully supplies without a way to get out of the situation at hand.

It should be with someone who loves him and cares about him and knows about his hangups with sex and his sexuality. His mind supplies Richie’s face, as he closes his eyes tight and feels himself being manhandled into facing the rough brick of the wall. The stone digs into his face as the man pulls his pants down just enough and fumbles with something.

He hears crinkling and hopes to every deity he can think of in his drug addled mind that it’s a condom—he can do without lube if he has to but not without a condom _please, God, not without a condom_ —before his hazy mind tries to conjure up images of Richie, that stupid smug look after he gets a joke off that has them all groaning and rolling their eyes at his attempt at comedy.

He pretends, as he feels himself being violated with fingers that aren’t his own—without lube he notices and winces and wheezes out sobs—it’s Richie. Because that’s all he can do as blackness creeps even stronger into the corners of his vision and he finally _finally_ becomes limp. Unable to fight back anymore.

He can barely keep a hold on his consciousness, but he wants to. He wants to hold out hope that his friends are gonna find him soon. That Mike and Stan and Bev and Ben and Bill and _Richie_ are gonna throw this fucker down and beat the shit out of him for this.

“Fuckin’ _finally_ , damn, it took a lot to get you out.” The voice purrs and Eddie feels bile rise in his throat, can taste the acrid liquid in the back of his throat, but nothing escapes. Nothing except an exhale as his cock is grabbed so carefully and gently, like this isn’t him being raped against a dirty wall in an even dirtier alley outside a nightclub where he was having fun just hours ago. Like he _wants_ this.

He did. Maybe. At first. But now he just feels gross and he feels his heart clench in his chest because this man is _younger_ than him. He had said he was in his twenties and Eddie’s older than him and _should_ be able to fight him off but he _can’t_ because he _can’t fucking move._

“But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” Humiliation courses through him as a moan escapes him, unbidden and unwanted, his traitorous hips slide into the man's fist. He cries, fully this time, tears leaking from his eyes and his throat closing as he finally tries to let himself succumb to the drugs in his system. He doesn’t want to be present for this.

But then he hears it.

A snarl that sounds absolutely feral. It’s a sound that Eddie knows. He knows it because he’s heard it before.

His eyes are heavy and unfocused as he turns, slow and sluggish, towards the alley opening, where the streetlight flickers ominously, illuminating the form of the beast stood there, chest heaving as anger rolls off him in waves, the light glinting off the beast’s glasses, hiding his eyes from Eddie’s vision, but he knows who it is.

The hawaiian shirt and leather jacket combo give him away.

His mind moves slower than his body as a memory is dredged up from the recesses of repression and denial.

Bev and Eddie had been cornered, they were the smallest of the losers, so of course they were, Ben had been with them and had tried to step in. But Bowers and his lackeys were ruthless and held Ben down while spitting on him and kicking him and _cutting_ him. And he probably still has the scars from Henry Bowers’s stupid knife.

And Bev, God she had given as good as she got that day, a black eye and bloody nose on her end, sure, but Hockstetter hadn’t gotten away from her unscathed. He had a gash in his leg from where she had shifted before they could stop her and bit into him. Her sharp fox teeth easily piercing his skin and causing him to yelp. He had kicked her in the ribs for that but she didn’t seem to care.

But that’s probably because they had Eddie pinned with his arm behind him and Bev knew it wouldn’t be good, she could tell from the absolute volume of _violence_ these guys were exhibiting that something bad was going to happen.

The snap of bone is a sound Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever get over. Sure, the pain was debilitating and made him scream in agony, but the sound is something that still haunts his waking moments sometimes when he’s weak.

It really, _truly_ , sucked in that moment to be a prey shifter. He wasn’t far enough along in puberty to have his antlers yet, which meant he had to just _take it_ as three bullies broke his arm while calling him all kinds of nasty names. (“You gonna cry, flamer? Beg for mommy you fucking, fairy? Filthy fucking _faggot._ ”) And he couldn’t fucking _breathe—Please, Mommy, I can’t BREATHE. Oh dear, Jesus meekandmild. I don’t want to die, don't want to die, oh please—_ and he wanted to cry, maybe he _was_ crying, he doesn’t really remember.

But then it didn’t matter because their other friends were _there_ suddenly, and Richie, a dark snarl in his chest, standing over Bowers and his gang, on the hill and looking down at the whole scene before him, all gangly and awkward, with Mike and Bill flanking him and Stan stood behind them all, eyes bright with hatred, had Eddie feeling so much relief he remembers _sobbing_.

Bowers’s gang didn’t go easily. Richie’s glasses snapped that day, Mike went home with a split lip, and Bill got a nasty black eye. But it didn’t matter because they were _ok_. _He_ was ok.

That day is one of Eddie’s fondest memories because of how loved he felt, even if they did have to rush him to his house for his broken arm and then his mother ruined it by telling him he couldn’t leave the house after it happened.

“R’ch.” He slurs as he finally comes back to himself, still barely moving, whines and whimpers escaping his throat with a tear stained face, and that’s all it takes for Richie to shift fully with a snarl so loud and vicious that if Eddie didn’t know any better he’d think Richie was an _actual_ wolf.

The man yelps as he’s tackled and Eddie whimpers as he’s finally freed from the man’s clutches, collapsing onto the ground in a heap. He hears frantic and familiar voices and someone snapping at Richie to calm down before he blacks out completely.

-x-

Richie paces anxiously outside of Eddie’s room. He hadn’t been gone that long. _He hadn’t_. But he _had_ gotten distracted by a cute girl who started flirting with him, and he hadn’t been interested because he was _never_ interested, but when he turned back, Eddie was _gone_ and _no one_ knew where he went.

Thank God for Ben, actually. He had seen him leave and rushed back into the club to get Bill and Mike to check the alley while he got the car and Richie had overheard and it...it was a blur after that.

He thought, at first, that Eddie was a willing party to the scene unfolding before his eyes, which, while heartbreaking, wasn't a big deal. It _wasn’t_. Even _if_ he _had_ snarled like a feral animal when he saw it, it wasn’t a big deal. Eddie was a grown man. He could sleep with whoever he wanted...But, when Eddie looked at him, showed his face to Richie, tear tracks plain and obvious, and he had _slurred_ his name, Richie _knew_ this wasn’t consensual.

So, he had reacted. So sue him. The shift had happened before he knew what hit him and he had barely missed the man's throat. His teeth had grazed his coat and tore a long strip of it off when he knocked him to the ground. The smug bastard just grinned at him when Mike and Bill pulled Richie off him.

Stan and Bev were knelt beside Eddie and speaking in low voices to him, but he wasn’t responding. Richie could smell the fear and _pain_ coming off Eddie in waves in this form and he lunged for the man again as he stood up and brushed himself off, tucking himself away.

“The little doe wanted it.” He said so smoothly, like he didn’t just get caught fucking someone unwillingly. Like he wasn’t caught raping someone in a dirty alley.

“Fuck you. You drugged him.” Bev spat out. While Bill and Mike encouraged him to shift back, to not be a wolf and help them. Help _Eddie_.

The man’s smirk had grown wider. “Prove it.”

Richie ripped free from Mike and Bill's grasps in that instant, the arrogance causing him to see red, but he stopped when Stan was in front of him, a hand firmly on his chest.

“Richie, knock it off.” He snarled and Richie bared his teeth back, half transformed between wolf and man, an absolute beast in that moment, “Eddie doesn’t need this right now.”

And they all knew what that meant, they all knew Eddie. He wouldn’t want to admit this happened and if Richie ripped that smirk off this fucker’s face—until his claws were red with blood and gore and the sinew and bone were exposed—it would only make things more difficult for him. It’s not like the smirk would leave anyway. Skulls had a nasty condescending smirk firmly in place for all eternity and Richie hated it.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want to have our little doe here admit how much he liked it.” And then he was readjusting himself again and he left and they were left with a passed out man who had just been violated.

So now Richie was back at their place. Their ‘too small for this many people to live here together’ place where they all moved after Eddie was free from Myra and his mother.

It’s not tiny. Not really. It’s a four bedroom place. Eddie has his own room, had asked specifically if he could have his own. He’s the only one with his own room but it’s a boundary they accept and encourage for him. Ben and Bev, the happy couple, share a room, just like Mike and Stan. And Richie shares with Bill, like they’re college roommates and not grown adult men who are both too afraid of intimacy with strangers to ever move away from their friends.

It’s textbook codependency at it’s finest but it’s fine. Great actually, it’s great being surrounded by his best friends. Except that most are in happy and fulfilling relationships and he is left to pine for his childhood crush. But at the moment, that doesn't matter.

Nothing matters right now as he paces in the hallway outside of Eddie’s bedroom, the closed door like a brick wall.

Bev opens the door slowly, sighing softly as she walks into the living room to the rest of them, Richie on her tail like a lost dog. And maybe he is. He feels lost right now.

Seeing Eddie groggy and out of it, words slurring even worse than the times he’s been fucking _hammered_ , unable to move on his own and passing out in the car on the way home, cowering away from them when he woke up, crying out when Richie tried to help—

“He’s showered, said he doesn’t wanna press charges, just wants to sleep it off.” Bev interrupts his spiral and he feels his face contort into something anxious, something probably showing just how hurt he is by this whole turn of events.

Stan sighs deeply and exhales slowly, “It’s alright. It’s fine. We figured this would happen.”

“Yeah but we can’t just not say anything! What if he targets someone else?! What the fuck, guys?! What’re we gonna do?!” Richie is yelling, he knows he is, he can feel his voice cracking every few words, and he waits idly for someone to say ‘beep beep’ to get him to just _be quiet_ but he can't help it. His skin is crawling with unused energy and disgust and he just wants Eddie to be ok. This was supposed to be fun. A fun night with friends. Not this. _Never_ this.

He doesn’t realize there’s a whine stuck in his throat until Bev is gently hugging him around the middle.

“This wasn't supposed to happen. It’s all my fault.” He whispers hoarsely into her hair.

“It’s not, I promise.” She whispers just as softly and broken as the other Losers hug him too.

-x-

Eddie wakes with a start, the dark is overwhelming and he shivers and shakes and sniffles pathetically as he swallows around the lump in his throat. There’s bile in his mouth before he can stop himself and he leaps from bed, yanking open the door as he races towards the bathroom, knocking his shoulder into the wall in the process.

He hopes he didn’t wake anyone, and he tries to vomit as quietly as he can. Tries not to make too much noise and bother anyone. He feels like he’s inconvenienced them enough already.

“Eds?” There's a knock on the open door when he speaks and Eddie looks over at him nervously, he probably looks more like a deer than ever.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He says softly, he can’t stand yet, legs shaky and adrenaline rushing through him from his mad dash to the bathroom.

“It’s fine. You didn’t.” Richie assures him. He watches as he gets mouthwash ready for him and Eddie feels his heart _ache_ with longing. It’s such a small thing but it feels so personal he can’t help the want that runs through him.

He takes the mouthwash gratefully and spits it before flushing and finally standing on unsteady legs.

The silence is heavy, and he keeps his head down as he shuffles awkwardly, unsure suddenly of what the right thing to do and say is, “Right...Well, uh, thanks.”

It feels heavy and awkward because Richie knows what happened. _Richie knows what happened._ Richie fucking **_knows_** and Eddie barely turns in time to vomit again, the anxiety and horrible realization that people _know_ throws him into body wracking sobs as bile and stomach acid burn his throat on the way up. He can feel his eyes watering as he coughs and gags, the dinner and alcohol coming up until his stomach is empty and he wants to beg the universe to just stop.

 _Fuck_. He _hates_ this. Because now, _now_ , he's going to get _more_ pitying looks and sympathy and worry and he just wants to live his fucking _life._ He didn’t _ask_ to be a deer! He didn’t _want_ to be a prey shifter! He just wants to live his life like a normal human being.

 _And_ he wants Richie to leave. But he doesn’t want to be alone, he just wants anyone but Richie there. However, when he sits by him on the floor, holding the mouthwash like his life depends on it, like it's an anchor in the storm that is their bathroom, Eddie doesnt push him away.

“I’m sorry,” He says finally, and Eddie looks at him skeptically, so he hurries on, “I mean I-I should've been there? Like, I wasn’t even interested in that girl and I—it shouldn't have happened and I'm sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Eddie says, because he has to. Even though it _feels_ like it’s Richie’s fault. Richie left him there alone and vulnerable.

But that's not fair. Because Richie doesn't know how he feels. And he couldn’t have known what that man was going to do. None of them knew, none of them _could_ have known. And besides, Eddie’s always telling them to back off and let him live anyway. He’s not fragile goddamn it…But maybe he is. Maybe he _is_ fragile, just like his mother always said he was.

Maybe being a prey animal just makes him inherently fragile.

“I should have known better.” Eddie says simply, reaching for the mouthwash again. He knows he’ll have to brush his teeth properly after this but it helps to get the taste out at the very least.

“Eddie.” His voice is soft, understanding and kind. Quiet even in the silence of their bathroom. And _that_ throws him. Where’s the stupid nickname? Where's the joking tone? And Eddie feels a rage boil up under his skin, bubbling and threatening to spill out of his mouth, much like the bile had minutes ago, “you couldn’t have known he was gonna…you know…”

And that's it isn't it? _That’s_ what he's going to be known as in their friend group from now on. The fucking elephant in the room. ‘Don’t talk about it or he’ll get upset.’ ‘Don’t say the word or he’ll break down.’ Eddie can’t help the vitriol that explodes from his mouth.

“Just fuck off, ok?!” Richie looks like he’s been kicked, shock overwhelming the sympathy that had been on his face, he knows it’s misplaced anger but in the moment he does not care, “I’m not _just_ some fragile prey animal. I'm a human and I can take care of myself and I don’t need the fucking sympathetic looks or pitying remarks.”

“Eddie w—”

“I don’t need you and Mike and Bill to look at me like I'm something that should be protected! Like I can’t take care of myself! I can, by the way! I _can_ take care of myself!”

He stops when he sees a sleepy Stan and Ben at the doorway to their bathroom, sympathy in Ben’s eyes has him even more angry, “I don't need this-this _bullshit_. I'm a grown man!”

“I don’t fucking need to be watched like a baby or kept under lock and key! Shit happens! It just fucking _does!_ It's a part of life and bad shit happens to good people, isn’t that what Bill says? And he’s right! Maybe I'm not good, not in the sense that other people are good, but it’s _fine_ and I don’t need _looks_ that show what you all _really_ think of me!”

And that’s when he feels the tears, warm against his cool skin, “I can take care of myself! I just had a lapse in judgment and—”

“Eddie,” Bev is there now, when did she get here? Are all of them here? His vision is too blurry to tell, “It's ok.” She speaks softly and gently holds his shoulders until she’s all he sees in his blurry vision.

“We don’t think less of you for what happened.”

And that does it, he fucking breaks. He grasps her like she’s a lifeline and sobs, body shaking and tense and heart wrenching, into her sleep top. He doesn't know how long he sits there on the floor of their bathroom just sobbing into her shoulder but eventually the tears slow and then stop completely.

She eases him onto his feet—slow and steady and just _there_ —and it’s cramped but she helps him brush his teeth and if he can’t look at himself in the mirror she doesn’t say anything about it.

When he’s done, cool compress on the back of his neck and body achy from being tense all night, he’s led into the living room.

Apparently they’re having an impromptu sleepover because he sees blankets and pillows spread out on the floor. Bill and Ben are talking in hushed tones and Stan and Richie are making and collecting snacks while Mike gets a movie set up.

Richie hesitates for a split second when he comes back into the room, but then he’s sitting beside Eddie, giving him enough space and Eddie just feels angry and humiliated again, like he’s going to panic if someone gets too close. And maybe they’re right to think that but it still _hurts_ to feel like they’re pushing him away. Keeping him at arm's length like he’s broken glass.

He’s thankful for Bev, she doesn’t change her mannerisms around him, she still picks on him playfully while they’re getting ready to fall asleep to whatever dumbass movie has been picked.

He feels like an idiot when _Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure_ comes on and he tries not to cry. He knows they picked it for him. They always pick out a favorite for their friends when they’re sad.

He realizes, halfway through the movie just as sleep is about to take him out again, that he’s slumped over onto Richie’s shoulder. He thinks he should sit up, shouldn’t drool on Richie’s shoulder if he falls asleep, but it’s nice, he’s comfortable.

He smells like home, and peanut butter and chocolate from the Reese's cups he's been eating and Eddie smiles sleepily as he says something to the others, his voice deep and gravelly in his ears, like he’s trying to stay quiet for Eddie’s benefit. And whatever he says has the rest of them softly laughing. But then, right on the cusp of sleep, it happens. He gets the scent of wolf.

Logically he knows it’s just Richie. But his brain kickstarts him awake and into the alley again, against his better judgment and wishes, and he sits up starting to hyperventilate and panic. He scrambles away from Richie, eyes never leaving him and likely full of fear and terror. He lands right into Ben’s lap, dumping the bucket of popcorn and one of their cans of soda, the mess soaking the blankets under them. He can hear them frantically jumping up to take care of the mess but he doesn’t dare turn to look at them. He has tunnel vision, can only see Richie, but he can’t actually _see_ him, just his form. Just this hulking mass of human who smells like wolf and who he needs to _flee_ from.

And then Bev is there. In his vision, which is very hazy and grey now. And she’s speaking low, and he can smell the fear and distress coming from the others in the room. His body trying to shift to escape but he can’t focus on that, can’t focus enough to let his hooves loose and run through the threat with his antlers, he might hurt someone, instead he focuses on Bev, her voice still low and calm.

He finally feels his vision getting better, though it’s still hard to breathe, and he focuses, listens to her as he focuses strictly on her face, ignoring everything else around him.

“Eddie, it’s just Richie, breathe.” And he does, inhales a shaky breath, holds it for a few seconds, exhales slowly. Repeat. Again. And again.

“That's it, just breathe.” She whispers it, gently brushing strands of hair out of his face, still calm and soothing.

He stays like that for a few minutes before he can look around more easily. Can see things better and hear the calmness of their home, the movie is paused and the only sound is the soft hum of their fridge in the background.

He sees Stan and Bill, standing to the side, rags held tight to clean up the soda that spilled on the floor. Ben and Mike have the half empty popcorn tub and are surrounded by the fallout from his panicking. He realizes the others are watching carefully, waiting for the ok that _he’s_ okay. Everyone is there and waiting...except Richie.

He left the room at some point and Eddie’s heart hurts at that.

“I'm sorry.” He whispers it; so low that Bev barely makes it out but she smiles softly, understanding clear in her eyes.

“Don't be, it’s alright.” She kisses his forehead and he swallows past the lump in his throat before trying to get back into the movie after he helps clean up the mess.

Richie doesn’t come back into the living room.

-x-

He doesn’t want to go to therapy even though Bev says she’d be more than willing to refer him to hers.

No. He doesn’t want to go see a predator therapist. But more than that...He doesn’t want to admit he was...Well.

He pretends nothing happened and slowly, so slowly, things slide back into place. He becomes comfortable around his friends—Richie, he becomes comfortable around _Richie_ —again and he’s fine. It's fine.

Until it’s not.

It happens when he tries to go out drinking again, he wants to have fun, and there’s Richie drinking with him again and Eddie wants so badly to kiss him.

But he sees the way he keeps glancing around, like he doesn’t want to be there and it begins to get on Eddie’s nerves. Under his skin. Like he’s a nuisance and a bother to Richie. He feels itchy with jealousy.

“You got a hot date?” He finally snaps when he does it again, letting his eyes slide along the dance floor and Richie snaps back to face him, eyes a little wide at the outburst, “Don’t let me keep you.”

If it weren’t so dark and hard to tell, Eddie might think he had a blush on his face, but then his face morphs into that shit-eating grin he always gets just before he teases someone and Eddie thinks he imagined it in his slightly inebriated haze.

“What? Like, I'm not on one?” Richie asks smoothly and its _Eddie’s_ turn to be flustered and caught off guard.

“Of course you’re not.” He scoffs as Richie takes a drink, _If you were I wouldn’t let you be looking around at other people._

He thinks, briefly, that he must have said that out loud because Richie chokes a little, coughing up beer and looking at Eddie with a wide grin.

“ _Really?_ ” Richie has a tone of voice now that has Eddie feeling hot all over. It’s teasing, like it always is, but there’s something else underneath that little teasing edge. Something a little deeper and darker. But still, Eddie thinks he’s imagining it.

He is suddenly very interested in his own drink, something fruity and light, not super alcoholic but enough to let him relax just a little, and barely has the presence of mind to listen as Richie continues.

“And what else, pray tell, would I not be allowed to do on this hypothetical date?” His smirk is firmly in place and the undertone to his voice is gone, once more light and teasing, not deep and flirty.

Eddie knows there’s two ways to play this. And it’s not like they haven’t flirted before, they have, at least Eddie thinks they have, so this isn’t new. But it feels different somehow. Partly it’s the way Richie’s eyes don’t leave his face, where normally with their teasing flirting he’d be looking all over him. But more than that it’s the way his voice keeps shifting. Deep and rumbly until he realizes he’s doing it, and then he stops.

That voice isn’t one Eddie is used to. Not aimed in his direction anyway, and it makes him hesitate and consider things.

Ultimately, he thinks, he wants to be selfish.

For one night he wants to pretend Richie is _really_ flirting with him, and maybe it’s the pining that has been building and building for years, or maybe it's the liquid courage in his veins—warm and cool all at once and bright green in the glass in this dingey little club—but something encourages him and he smiles, a lazy and easy grin as he sits up a little straighter.

He doesn't miss the way Richie’s eyes flash with something almost like interest before he relaxes into his seat. But Eddie knows him, this isn’t a natural relaxation, he’s _forcing_ himself to be casual. Eddie can’t tell if it’s interest or discomfort but since he’s not told to stop he decides to jump right into it.

“Well, for starters, I wouldn’t have let you bring us here. We would’ve gone somewhere nicer.” He plays with the straw idly, swirling the drink around and around, the ice clinking gently while the music blares in the background.

“Of course, only the best for my Eds.” Richie agrees, he licks his lips and Eddie tries not to stare, “And what would we have done on the date?”

“I can tell you what we would have done _after_ the date.” Eddie grins mischievously and sips from his drink, he files the look Richie gives him away for later. It’s a good look. His pupils have dilated just a bit more than they were before, barely noticeable in the dim lighting, but Eddie can tell. Eddie’s always been able to read Richie like that.

He sits up a little straighter, leaning closer to Eddie like he’s much more interested in what he has to say, hunching over the table like they’re conspiring to do something, and maybe they are. It feels like they might be.

“Yeah? And what’s that?” He sounds curious, maybe even eager, but certainly not teasing. His voice is deep again, pitched low and velvety soft as he speaks.

And is Eddie...Is he imagining that?—imagining the way Richie’s throat bobs when he swallows _nervously_?—Eddie doesn’t know, but it’s exhilarating, getting Richie to shut up for more than 5 seconds is a new, and slightly addictive, feeling.

“Well, it’d start with a kiss.” Eddie practically whispers it, they’re close enough that he’s sure Richie can hear him anyway, and Richie apparently does because he grins easily.

“Is that all Eds? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like neckin’ as much as the next guy, but—”

“And after that I’d let you into my room,” And that gets him quiet, so Eddie, feeling a surge of bravery and arousal, leans forward until he’s whispering directly into Richie’s ear, “And if you were _really_ good on our date, I’d let you touch me.” He can hear the way Richie’s throat closes when he swallows, and a thrill of something runs through Eddie at that, a thrill that makes him say the next words without thinking, “Wherever, and however, you wanted.”

And then he’s leaning back just a little, just so he can look him in the eye, still grinning mischievously at Richie.

Richie’s reaction is so fast that Eddie doesn’t have time to be anything but dazed as their lips crash together. It’s rough and desperate and Eddie couldn’t be happier about it.

There’s something nerve wracking about kissing the person you’ve been in love with for years. It’s not bad, it’s good. _Really_ good, actually, but it’s also _terrifying_ , because deep down, you know that if they reject you, it will _actually_ kill you.

But Eddie is eager for this, this one night of freedom and feeling like he’s _worth_ something to the man he’d been in love with for years; he tangles his fingers into Richie’s hair and kisses back for all he’s worth because by God he’s going to take this opportunity even if it kills him.

But then it changes, just slightly, the kiss gets deeper and as soon as Eddie tastes the alcohol on Richie’s tongue he panics and jerks away from Richie like he’s been burned.

And there’s a split second of something like confusion on Richie’s face until it dawns on him and he looks hurt and angry. Eddie thinks it’s aimed at him and he panics, he wants to apologize but Richie doesn’t let him say anything, he holds Eddie’s hand and smiles sadly at him.

“Maybe...” He says it so low and so soft that Eddie has to strain to hear him over the music, still booming around them, “Maybe we shouldn’t do this, Eddie. Maybe we sh—”

Eddie can feel his throat close up and he nods once before standing abruptly, interrupting whatever Richie was about to say. The rejection is loud and clear and ringing in his ears like the thumping music is in his chest.

“I need to use the bathroom.” Is all he says as an explanation before he’s walking away from their table.

He barely makes it before he throws up, kicking in the nearest stall and being grateful it’s empty.

He can’t kneel on this ground, it will kill him, but he can squat and he doesn’t make too much of a mess as the alcohol escapes him, burning as it comes back up his throat, bringing his dinner with it. His heart hurts in his chest and makes him wish he still had an inhaler on him even if he doesn’t need it.

He decides that night, listening to the horrible thumping of whatever music is playing on the dancefloor while he’s cleaning his mouth out with emergency mouthwash from Stan, that maybe therapy would be a good idea. Because Richie seemed enthusiastic about it and maybe...Maybe he would still be interested if Eddie got better.

Yeah. Maybe.

-x-

Therapy helps, it helps a lot, and as the weeks go by he finds it easier and easier to open up to this woman. She’s a predator shifter, but she seems nice and understanding and he’s grateful for it, but she made it clear when he started going, that it would take time and that it’s ok to not feel ready for certain things.

“I think, if you truly want and are ready to go further with this person you like, that you should do it in a comfortable and familiar setting. A place that feels safe for you.” And it makes sense. But how is he supposed to do that when he’s always too afraid to say anything? He doesn’t ask that because he knows she’ll just think he’s still not ready.

And he’s not. But he wants to be. And Richie will understand. And they won’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do.

Richie, of all the people he knows, will understand.

He decides, one night when they’re all in their shared space, to bite the bullet and just tell him.

He's sure it’ll be fine.

They accepted him when he came out, he’s sure they’d be understanding and accepting now too, but he doesn’t want to do it in front of everyone.

Even though he could because they would understand. And he _should_ because they’re his friends. _But he can’t_.

So, instead, he ends up gently putting his hand on Richie’s shoulder as he moves down the hallway, attempting to get to the living room, an insult directed at Ben and Bill dies on his tongue when he sees Eddie's face and Eddie feels like a burden. Like he’s bothering Richie for wanting to be close and talk to him.

_But I’m not. I'm not a burden and Richie is only making that face because he wants to make sure I'm okay._

He reminds himself of this, the small affirmation helping him to swallow down the butterflies in his chest. It helps too when Richie’s originally shocked expression morphs into an easier smile.

“Can we talk?” He asks softly, so quietly that he isn’t sure Richie can hear him.

And he can see the joke Richie wants to make, the way his eyes sparkle with mischief, but he half smiles and nods instead and Eddie relaxes just a bit. He didn’t even know he was tense but when he relaxes it suddenly seems so obvious.

“Sure Spagheddie-o, what’s up?” He leans casually against the wall, they take up the whole hallway and Eddie suddenly feels small, he hasn’t felt this tiny in a long time and it makes him feel out of place.

“I'm sorry for the event at the bar,” He says slowly, nerves making him damn near shake. He can’t look at him all the time yet, but his therapist said that was natural and in time it’d be easier, “I know it's been weeks now but, I wanted to apologize for—”

“For kissing the life out of me or running away to vomit?” The interruption is enough for him to look at Richie and see a small smile on his face, “Because I can only think of one of those things you should be apologizing for.”

“Ass,” Eddie smiles though and Richie’s grin is back in full force, looking at him is getting easier, little by little, “No, I want to apologize for pushing you away. That is the absolute _last_ thing I wanted to do.”

Richie is quiet now, contemplative, so Eddie continues, unable to stop the words tumbling from his throat.

“My therapist and I have been talking, not about you specifically, but se-sex,” He clears his throat when he stumbles over the word, a blush high on his face, “in general since the uh...the rape.” And he flinches because admitting it is still so fucking hard for him. He knew it would be but his therapist encouraged him to put a word to it—to make it more bearable and get used to the fact it happened, because maybe he couldn’t change it but he could change how it affected him—so he powers on before Richie can say anything, “She said that if I wanted to try to have sex with someone, to do it somewhere I feel comfortable and safe, and with someone I trust. Obviously I feel comfortable and safe in my room but—”

“Hey!” Ben interrupts his tirade and Eddie jolts back to himself, forgetting it’s not just the two of them and there are, in fact, other people here in the house, “You guys coming or what?”

“Oh, I'll be coming, don’t you worry about that, Benny boy,” Richie shoots back and Eddie feels himself crumple a little internally because how is he supposed to get his rhythm back now?

God, he needs a drink.

But he can’t, because his therapist said that might be an unhealthy coping method if he isn’t careful, and he doesn’t want to go through life drinking his problems away. Fuck, if he does _that_ it won’t be any different than when he was taking all kinds of medications as a child, unable to cope with real world issues and relying on shit that ultimately doesn’t work and will probably k—

“Hey, Eds?” Richie is talking to him now— _fuck_ how long has he been talking to him?!—and Eddie looks up, he’s sure his eyes are wide because he suddenly feels incredibly vulnerable.

“If you want to, when our movie night is over, we can talk in your room?” Eddie wonders how Richie can be so fucking _smooth_ and also a huge dumbass all at once but his heart flutters fondly and he smiles a little.

“Yeah, yeah I’d like to do that, Rich.”

When they walk into the living room, side by side, hands barely brushing, Bev and Stan shoot each other a knowing glance.

“Shut the fuck up, Staniel.” Richie barks and Stan sips at his tea, a small grin on his face.

“Richie, I didn’t _say_ anything.” He says casually as he places it back on the coaster on the table.

“No, but your thoughts are loud enough to hear,” He grumbles as he marches over to the couch, “Where do I get to sit?”

“On your ass.” Bill helpfully supplies, he’s comfortable and leaned back, hand intertwined with Mike's.

“No one loves me.” Richie sighs dramatically and all but collapses onto the laps of the four on the couch, earning indignant squawks from them as they try to shove him off.

“Richie!”  
“You're heavy!”  
“You old fuck, get off!”  
“Asshole, you almost made me dump the popcorn!”

Eddie sits beside Stan on the smaller couch, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at Richie’s antics with their friends, face a mask of indifference even if internally he’s smiling.

“You okay?” Stan whispers it softly as he slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, he and Ben have been even more protective of him—of them all really—since the incident and Eddie thinks it’s kinda sweet now, even if in the beginning he hated it.

“Yeah, I'm gonna talk to him tonight.” He sees Stan's easy smile and feels his face heat up, he’s so fucking obvious and he hates it.

“Are you going to tell him?” The _how you feel_ goes unspoken but Eddie knows it’s there. The vagueness of the question gives it away.

“I’d like to,” Eddie answers honestly, right now it’s just them, and he’s trying to be more honest, his therapist said it’s good to be honest and while his impulse is to lie he doesn't need to, not around his friends at least, “Especially since he seems to be the only one who doesn’t realize it.”

Stan's known about his feelings for Richie as long as Eddie—and Bev knew even before Eddie himself did—but they’ve always been accepting and patient, letting their dumbass unobservant friends figure shit out in their own time on their own terms.

After he came out, Mike and Ben realized almost immediately, the gears clicking into place, the way it was always _‘Richie and Eddie’_ when they were kids and how Eddie’s always sort of looked for Richie’s approval even if he didn’t admit it.

Bill took the longest because...Ok listen, Eddie loves Bill. Loves him just as much as he loves the others. But Bill’s kind of an idiot. He's smart, he’s good with people, but he doesn’t see the things in front of his face, forgets not everyone is straight (Eddie privately thinks that’s why it took him so long to realize Mike was trying to woo him), but even _he_ figured out Eddie has a Thing for Richie.

As he watches the way Richie tries to grab the popcorn bucket from Bev, not moving from the way he’s sprawled across the laps of their mutual friends, Eddie wonders whether Richie is really as oblivious as he acts like he is.

-x-

Stan loves to cuddle and lately Eddie’s been needing that. So he always seeks him out. Stan is always happy to oblige, and tonight is no different. His arm is around Eddie, hand tangled gently in his hair as his fingers run through the strands slowly. It's grounding, comforting and Eddie doesn’t fight the smile that sneaks its way onto his face.

If there’s one thing Eddie is grateful for it’s the touch affection they give each other. Not just the couples either. It's a part of all of their relationships. They just like to be close.

Stan is the best for cuddling with, he doesn’t get overheated and isn’t cold when people want to snuggle up to him. Richie is usually just a solid weight, he cuddles much like Stan does, but Richie doesn’t sit still. He’s always fidgeting and full of nervous energy, so to keep himself grounded and calmer, he tends to let people use him as a pillow. Stan is comforting but he’s not comfortable to lay on for extended periods of time. But Richie? Richie can and will be a pillow for anyone for as long as they need him to be.

Ben and Mike are tied for the best hugs. Mike's are always so tight and firm and nearly bone crushing, and after a long day Eddie sometimes just hugs onto him to feel that tension in his shoulders leave. Ben's are always so soft, even now that he’s toned up and lost weight, his hugs are still soft and affectionate, gentle in the way they warm you from the inside out. A hold on you that keeps you here and now and comfortable.

Bev and Bill aren’t much for affection, neither is touchy feely, not like the others. But Bill is always ready to hold hands, especially in public where he gets so easily overwhelmed, and Bev is always ready to give someone a kiss. Forehead, cheek, mouth, whatever they ask for she gives. She obviously doesn’t stick her tongue down their throats but soft pecks before work or a kiss before bed are the norm for them all.

They're home, Eddie thinks, and he wishes he had something to give in exchange for the things they give him, but...Maybe he’s just the shoulder to cry on, he doesn’t know, but he’s always going to listen if they need him.

They watch a movie they've seen a million times, something stupid and cheesy that they can quote easily (like Richie is currently doing, a dialogue with Bev as they throw popcorn at the screen like they’re not going to have to clean up later), but Eddie doesn’t pay too much attention as he relaxes against Stan's side.

When the movie is over and Ben is sweeping up the popcorn— “Why don’t you just shift and eat it, Haystack?” “Because I have standards, Tozier.”—Eddie decides he’s ready for bed. His back pops when he sits up, it’s not an unwelcome feeling but he still grunts softly when it happens. He feels old sometimes when his body pops and cracks.

He hears a snort from Bev and looks over at her to see Richie a little flushed as he glares daggers at her. She doesn’t say anything as she shoves a handful of popcorn into his face which he eats even with the glare still set firmly in place.

He frowns a little and stands up, his legs are a little wobbly from disuse for an hour but he rights himself easily, even at Stan's careful and slightly concerned expression.

“Alright, I'm going to bed.”

He gets some booing from Bill and Bev, but a soft chorus of ‘goodnight’s from the rest of them as he heads down the hall.

He forgets, until just before he closes his door, that he wanted to talk to Richie.

He sticks his head back into the hallway, the soft murmurs of them talking drifting to his ears even if he can’t make out what they’re saying.

“Hey, Richie?” He calls into the hallway and the sound of conversation stops for a moment, “Can you come here?”

He hears a thud and an ‘oof’ as someone (Richie probably) lands on the floor and Bev starts cackling.

He can hear Mike and Bill laughing too as Stan says “He's on his way, Eddie.” and Eddie frowns a little.

He's still frowning when Richie shows up at the end of the hallway, flipping the bird over his shoulder even as they continue laughing, disheveled and rumpled like he just fell on the floor. Which he fucking did.

“What the fuck happened?”

“I got too excited to see what you needed, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie says calmly even as his heart is hammering in his throat when he lets Richie into his room.

It’s a privacy thing. He's come to terms with that as he’s gotten older. People can only come in when _he_ says they can. Not when his mother or wife dictates that it’s okay. The others are extremely supportive and understanding, Bev in particular is very mindful about knocking even when the door is open. He figures it’s because Bev was the same way for a long while.

Richie makes himself comfortable. It’s with practiced ease that he lays the wrong way across the bed, feet flat on the floor and smirk in place as he stares at the ceiling.

But...this is the first time Richie will be in his room with the door _closed_ and Eddie’s nervous. Which is why he’s still standing by the door, hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles hurt.

“I—”

“If you want the door left open, it can stay open.” Richie is quick to reassure him, sitting up on his elbows, and it’s enough to let Eddie know, to _remind_ him that this is just Richie and he’ll be fine.

So he closes the door with a soft click and they’re in the dim light of his bedroom and Eddie inhales deeply before exhaling slowly.

“Ok. Alright. Yeah. Cool.”

“Eds? You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, never better.” His voice cracks a little but it’s just Richie and he tries to push down that feeling of unease. It’s just Richie, one of his best friends.

“I—you’re—are you sure thou—”

“I'm fine.” He snaps and then feels bad, but Richie's grinning now so he relaxes.

“Okey dokey, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Stop calling me that.” He snaps again and Richie’s grin widens.

“Okay, sorry, Edward Spaghedward.”

Things feel tense now that he's here and Eddie doesn’t know what to say or do, things shouldn't be this stressful and he wishes he could just _breathe._

Richie, for his part, doesn't say anything and just idly kicks his feet on the floor.

“So,” He finally prompts and Eddie feels his throat close up.

He clears it a few times before he can speak.

“So my...my therapist said—”

“If you wanna get in the game to do it someplace comfortable, I remember.” Richie finishes smiling at Eddie in such an endearing way that his heart flutters hard in his chest.

“Right! Right, and well. My bedroom is comfortable for me. Is...Is safe,” He stumbles over his words as he paces, mouth moving faster than his brain as he speaks, “And you seemed interested in-in. Whatever we did at the bar? And I was thinking that if you wanted to try I'd be ok with that because it would help since she, my therapist I mean, also said to do it with someone I trust and I don't trust a lot of people except for you guys? But I don't like any of them enough to do this. Not that I don't like them! I just don’t feel like I would feel ok with doing this with any of them? Except for maybe Stan but he’s trying to figure himself out and he told me he thinks he might be asexual? So I don’t think he’d—”

“So what you’re saying,” Richie says slowly enough that Eddie finally looks at him, interrupted and grateful for it, “is that you want me to help you get your mojo back?”

He says it so carefully that Eddie worries he disgusted him and wants to hit himself in the face so he doesn’t have to see Richie's eyes on him. Instead he closes his eyes, inhales deeply and exhales slowly before he responds softly.

“Yes, but if you call it mojo again I will actually kick you in the nuts.”

Richie's easy laugh has him opening his eyes again and smiling slightly.

“Well, shit, Eds, of course we can do this,” He pauses and seems thoughtful as he stares at Eddie, “we’ll take things slow, alright?”

Eddie feels a knot in his stomach loosen and he nods.

“Y-yeah.”

“Yeah, ok.”

And then the silence stretches as Eddie fidgets, frozen in place and afraid to move and Richie’s eyes soften.

“C’mere Eds.” He says it quietly, but it doesn’t feel oppressive or dark, just soft and Eddie swallows before he approaches Richie on his bed.

“Slow.” Richie reminds him as he stands to meet him.

“Slow.” Eddie affirms. He’s still tense but Richie moves slow, sliding his hands gently along Eddie's jaw, cradling the back of his neck and pressing their foreheads together.

“Can I kiss you, Eddie?”

“Yeah.” His voice is hoarse, already wrecked, and he licks his lips nervously.

“Ok, do you wanna close your eyes?” His thumb brushes gently along his jaw the motion soothing and comforting and another knot in his stomach loosens.

“Yeah.” He whispers it this time, sounding almost broken to his own ears.

“Ok. You can, I'm here,” Richie whispers as his eyes flutter closed and then he feels the gentlest brush of lips on his own, a barely there kiss that has him gasping softly and tensing in fear.

“‘S alright Eddie, it’s just me.” Richie murmurs against his lips and Eddie feels his heart rate slow down and even out, just a little.

They kiss slowly, gently, never more than a brush of lips in the darkness of Eddie's room. He keeps his eyes closed and he isn’t sure how long they kiss for before his hands are tangling in Richie’s hair and pulling him closer, craving more.

“Richie.” he whines softly, eyes opening just slightly, and Richie pulls away.

“Shh, it’s alright Eds, we have time.” He soothes, caressing his face again, his touch grounding and stable, “Let’s call it good for tonight, ok?”

Eddie feels a dam in his chest break, the last of the fear leaving him in a flood. He can’t verbalize his feelings as he clings to Richie and cries into his chest, but he thinks, maybe he doesn’t have to explain. Maybe Richie just understands.

“‘S alright Eddie, I’m here.” He whispers it into Eddie's hair and he thinks, for the briefest of moments, that he doesn't want this to end. He wants to stay held like this until the world falls away around him, until he’s better and over this trauma.

And the way Richie holds him while he cries, hand gentle but firm on his back, rubbing the tension from between his shoulders, says he probably understands this isn’t frustration or anger that has Eddie reacting this way.

He probably knows this is relief causing him to cry nearly uncontrollably into his chest and soak his shirt.

And when he’s all cried out he and Richie part ways. He hears a whoop from Bev in the living room along with something about “Damn, Tozier, don’t you have _any_ stamina?”

He doesn’t hear Richie's reply but it makes him laugh anyway, even if it’s a wet sound to his own ears.

After his routine, brushing his teeth, washing his face, making sure his alarm is set, the normal things he does every night, that he’s gotten more strict about doing since that night, he lays in bed and stares at the ceiling.

He isn’t sure how long he lays there staring, not really thinking of much, but he knows he has a smile on his face.

Yeah. Eddie thinks Richie probably understands him better than he gives him credit for.

-x-

He tells his therapist about his progress the next time he sees her and she commends him for it, tells him “That’s great Eddie! That’s a great start and it sounds like he really cares about you.”

And that...that scares him a little.

It’s easy to have a crush on someone, easy to be turned down and have unrequited love, but to have someone _possibly return those feelings_ is _terrifying._

So he tries not to think about it too hard, opts instead for pretending he doesn’t have feelings for Richie and that Richie is just being a friend, helping him out with his hangups about sex.

That’s all. Just...guys being dudes.

...It sounds stupid in his head too.

He sighs heavily as he works, idly clicking a pen over and over

And just like the clicking pen something in his head (or maybe his heart) clicks into place and he feels warm all over.

_Richie likes him._

He has to. He wouldn’t have initiated that kiss at the bar if he didnt. Right? Wouldn’t have agreed to help Eddie out like this. _Right?!_

It’s with renewed vigor that Eddie vows to come to terms with this trauma. At least to the point where he can hold hands and kiss Richie without flashbacks.

-x-

Weeks turn into months and Eddie and Richie keep spending maybe 20 minutes a day in his room. Sometimes talking, sometimes kissing, sometimes they just sit by each other and fuck around on their phones. Richie talking about his new specials or throwing new jokes at him while Eddie tries not to laugh.

It's comforting and Eddie is glad he decided to do this because now when he smells wolf on Richie he doesn’t tense up or panic. It’s just Richie.

Unfortunately now he wants to progress a little further because...well, kissing is nice. It is, but Eddie wants more and he wants to not have to get himself off if he can have Richie help with that.

Plus it’s escalated, the kissing, to become a little deeper each time. And it always leaves him wanting _more_.

The first time Richie wanted to push it a little further he had pulled away just slightly, eyes almost crossed from how he was looking at Eddie so close.

“Eds?”

“Hmm?” He felt fucked out already, finding so much comfort in Richie’s presence and the soft kisses, he felt kind of foolish for getting so strung out before.

“Can I…?” and he had licked at his bottom lip and Eddie had whined softly in the back of his throat, and Richie, misunderstanding, had backpedaled quickly, “Shit, no, we don’t have to, I just thought you might want to, this is good too Eddie, kissing like this is great I just—” Eddie had had to cut him off with a kiss, clutching tightly to his shirt collar.

“Shut up and do it.” He had growled, almost feral, against Richie’s lips and Richie had laughed at him.

“Ok ok, chill.” And then he had kissed him again but this time it was with tongue and Eddie almost jumped out of his skin.

It wasn’t bad. Of course not, and he didn’t taste like alcohol that time so he didn’t panic right away, but he did tense up and didn’t reciprocate.

So Richie had pulled back, smile soft and understanding, “It’s alright, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie had griped because it helped. It helped to remind him of where he was. And Richie didn’t pull away, didn’t remove his hand from where it rested, gentle and steady, against his neck.

And they stood close, just breathing each other’s air.

“You wanna stop?” He had asked with no anger or resentment, no condescension, just soft words and Eddie had nodded because it was a lot suddenly and his heart hurt a little in apprehension.

“Alright, let’s sit down and I’ll show you the memes they’ve made of me on twitter.” And he had pulled him to the bed, gentle and guiding and Eddie was ready to sleep, already exhausted from being on edge and tense.

“Only you would appreciate memes people make to make fun of you.”

“Uh, yeah, _duh_. I’ve even made a few myself.” He said with a broad grin, and Eddie couldn’t help it, he had laughed too while they sat side by side and Richie proudly showed off the horrible memes he had made of himself.

It was nice.

It’s still nice.

Especially now that he’s more ok with kissing and they’ve had a few days where they make out pretty aggressively, at least on Eddie's part it’s aggressive. He bites a lot, but Richie doesn’t seem to mind.

And he never gets rough back, which both relieves and infuriates Eddie. He can take it, he's not a child anymore.

 _He doesn't want you to panic again._ A little voice tells him—it sounds like Stan—and he hates it because it's right. Richie is being slow and methodical with Eddie because it’s what he needs, what he asked for.

Today though, Eddie’s going to be the one to push it a little further.

Richie is on his bed again, back to his headboard, scrolling through instagram and commenting on every single thing Bev has ever posted, he says he likes to do it to “keep her on her toes”.

Eddie doesn’t have the heart to tell him she doesn’t even check instagram anymore since the last time he did this, instead he walks over with purpose, laptop left open on the spreadsheet he had been working on.

“Hey Eds, whats up? You done already? The others said they won’t be ready to go out to dinner until like 8 we could—”

“I want to go further.” He blurts it, his face heating in embarrassment.

Richie’s jaw snaps closed with an audible click and Eddie swallows nervously.

“...H...How far?” Richie asks, hesitating because he knows Eddie, he knows how impulsive he can be.

“Just...uh,” Eddie never thought saying the words _heavy petting_ would be a thing he needed to do but here he is, struggling to do just that, “Not sex. Just, uhh…”

It seems to click in Richie’s brain because he gets that godawful smirk that says he knows exactly what someone is thinking but he's gonna make their life hell until they verbalize it themselves.

“Ohoho! Eddie Spaghetti wants to do some grinding, huh? Some heavy petting?” He’s teasing but it relaxes Eddie, when he rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically it helps to remind him that this is just Richie.

“Yes asshole, I want to do that.” Richie raises an eyebrow and Eddie bites out, “Don’t make me say it, I’ll feel like a horny teenager.”

And that seems like enough for him because he laughs and sets his phone down.

“Alright, how do you wanna do it?”

And Eddie is suddenly at a loss. He knows he wants to be in control though. He wants to be the one to set the pace, to be able to stop it if he needs to, so he swallows and licks his lips, nerves trying to overwhelm him.

“Maybe, maybe like this?” He says it as he climbs into Richie’s lap, and Richie, for his part doesn’t move, stays like a statue until Eddie’s situated in his lap and his arms are around Richie’s neck.

“Can I put my hands on your waist?” Richie asks before they kiss and Eddie nods.

“Yeah, that, that should be fine. Just, on top of the clothes for now?”

“Of course, Eddie,” He pauses when Eddie doesn’t move, “Do you wanna close your eyes again?”

“Yeah, just to start.” Eddie whispers it, he knows he sounds scared, he _is_ scared, but he reminds himself that this is just Richie and Richie would never hurt him.

“Sure thing, Eduardo.”

And when they kiss it’s like it always is. Hot and cloying and so dizzying that Eddie is glad they’re sitting down already. Whenever Richie’s tongue slides into his mouth he always gets lightheaded and this time is no different.

Their tongues slide so easily and it's so familiar that it only feels natural for Eddie to start rocking his hips against Richie as they kiss. He's gotten hard before when they make out, he’s attracted to Richie, of course he has, but this time he can do something about it.

So he does. He makes soft noises in his throat as they kiss. Richie tastes like mint like he always does, like the gum he chews so he doesn’t pick up smoking again, and Eddie’s head spins as his cock hardens and the friction drags slowly up his spine

They break away, panting softly and Richie hums happily, hands a solid weight on his body.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers back, he digs his knees into the bed on either side of Richie’s hips as he keeps his pace slow, careful.

“Can I kiss your neck?” Richie’s voice is soft but not a deep purr which is why Eddie thinks he feels like he can do it.

“Yes, please Rich, please.” His voice sounds hoarse, and he feels Richie’s grip tighten just slightly on him before he's kissing at his neck, open mouthed and careful.

“You sure you’re alright, Eds?” His breath is hot against Eddie's skin when he speaks and Eddie’s head spins, he feels lightheaded and moans, the noise feels like it's being ripped from his throat.

“Fuck, yeah I— _ha_ —I want...gimme more Richie, _please_ ,” he pulls at Richie’s hair desperately, pressing his mouth harder against his throat, a deep groan escapes Richie, his hands nearly shaking in an effort not to grip Eddie too tight, too hard.

Eddie feels himself panic a little when he feels Richie’s cock against his body, he tenses and whines, freezing in his lap.

Richie doesn’t move, just breathes against his throat, hands gently massaging at Eddie’s sides.

“Eddie, it’s just me, remember?” He gasps when Richie grinds up against him, “It’s just me, just my dick, I’m happy to see you.”

Eddie snorts trying to fight a smile, and the tension breaks as he feels his body relaxing.

“Yeah I don't know how I could forget it was you. Only you would be like this.”

“I mean, I'm just being honest, Eds.” he laughs softly against Eddie's neck, pressing soft kisses against the heated skin there.

And then he speaks again and Eddie feels his body run hotter.

“I thought it was really hot of you to ask for more,” His hands slide up and down Eddies sides before settling on his hips again, on top of the clothes like Eddie asked—fuck hes so considerate and sweet and Eddie wants to cry hes so grateful—as he starts rocking his hips again, Richie guiding them, firm and deliberate, “you’re doing so well, improving so much, you learning it’s ok to want this is so fucking hot Eddie.”

His voice sounds wrecked and Eddie gasps as he grinds down harder, the friction getting stronger but not enough, he wants to come but he also knows he’s afraid to do that with someone still.

Still...Richie is being so good to him, whispering against his skin like he's telling him secrets.

“Thank you, Eddie.” And that makes him whine, tightening his grip in Richie’s hair, “Thank you for trusting me to see you like this.”

Eddie whines and grinds harder, he can feel Richies cock against him and he slumps forward, breathing heavily against Richies neck, pulling his hair and making him groan softly into Eddie's ear.

“Fuck Eddie, you look so fucking good, you _feel_ so good, baby, come on. I wanna see you come for me, sweetheart.” Richies voice fades, he keeps talking but Eddie only feels buzzing under his skin as he chases his orgasm.

He thinks, in the only logical part of his brain still functioning, he probably looks and sounds ridiculous, grinding against Richie’s front like a horny teenager, panting and whining and unable to stop even if he wants to, but Richie thinks he looks hot and really that’s almost enough.

“R-Richie, I—”

“Shh,” He hushes him softly, kissing at his ear, “Can I touch? On top of the clothes? Just to help you, pretty boy.”

“Please,” Eddie begs, and then Richie’s hand is sliding between them and putting just enough pressure on Eddie’s confined cock to cause him to see stars.

“You’re so fucking hot, Eddie,” Richie pants softly into his ear and that’s it, Eddie is _gone._

He comes in his pants with a soft whine, biting at Richie’s shirt and shoulder as he jerks his hips hard against him. When he's done, body finally not tense for a moment, he breathes heavily against Richie’s shoulder, trying to collect himself. And Richie, bless his heart, slides a hand up and down Eddie’s back slowly, whispering soft encouragement to him.

“Feel better, Eds?” He teases and Eddie huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah.” He stays still for a moment longer, simply basking in Richie’s presence before a realization hits him and he panics a little, “Shit.” He mumbles sitting up straight, Richie hisses softly when he brushes against his still hard cock, “Fuck, Richie, I’m sorry let me—”

Richie gently grabs at Eddie’s hand as he reaches for Richie’s button on his jeans. He freezes as Richie smiles softly, bringing his hand to his mouth and kissing his knuckles gently

“Don’t worry about it, Eds. Let me go to my room for a few minutes while you change. Then we can go see the others at the restaurant.”

“Richie that's not—”

“Eddie, it’s alright,” He says softly, and the understanding in his eyes has Eddie tearing up a bit, “Slow, remember?”

“Slow.” Eddie agrees, voice cracking quietly.

“Let me up, hot stuff, I got a Richard to take care of.” Richie says with a grin that has Eddie rolling his eyes fondly.

“A ‘Richard’? Really?” He asks as he slides off his lap, he tries not to stare at the bulge in Richie’s jeans, but he’s only human and if his eyes linger a little longer than strictly necessary as Richie moves to get off his bed, well, who can blame him?

“Yeah, I mean, ‘Dick’ is a nickname for Richard, right?” Richie asks over his shoulder as he moves into the doorway.

“Get out of my room, Richie.” Eddie grumbles, fighting the urge to smile and failing.

“You got it, Captain.” Richie salutes and then he’s closing the door behind him and Eddie stands in his room for a moment, letting everything hit him slowly before he starts stripping so he can change into clean clothes.

He really loves Richie.  
He’s probably _in love_ with Richie.

...He’s in love with Richie.

And that realization, the _acceptance_ of that fact, has Eddie feeling like he’s been punched in the gut.

He's _in love_ with _Richie_.

He keeps repeating it to himself as he changes, and when he walks into the living room and finds Richie there already, changed and comfortable already as well, Eddie wonders if Richie is in love with him too.

But no, probably not, he’s doing this to help a friend. Right? That’s all it is. All it’ll ever be.

“Yo, space man Eds, you alright?”

Eddie is snapped out of his thoughts by Richie waving a hand in his face.

“What?” He asks, shaking his head to rid himself of his thoughts. Of his anxieties that he’ll _definitely_ need to bring up with his therapist.

“I _said_ ‘are you ready to go’, and ‘do you have everything’, and you were out in a galaxy far far away.”

“Don’t quote _Star Wars_ at me when it’s obvious _Star Trek_ is the superior series,” Eddie huffs as he grabs his keys and slides on his shoes.

“ _Excuse me,_ ” Richie sounds indignant and it makes Eddie grin, “ _Star Wars_ is _far_ more superior than _Star Trek_. What the fuck, Eddie, don’t you have any sense of culture and class?”

“Obviously not if I'm friends with you.” He barks and Richie laughs, clapping a hand on his shoulder as they leave the house.

“Haha! Eds gets off a good one!” Richie laughs, his hand doesn’t leave Eddie's shoulder at first, until he slides it down his arm as he continues speaking, “Don’t lie Eddie Spaghetti, you enjoy my company. You probably even _love_ me.”

He’s teasing, Eddie knows this, he knows it’s just a teasing gesture, a way to get Eddie comfortable as they walk down the block, towards the restaurant they’re meeting the others at, but Eddie can’t help it. He can’t stop the words that flow from his mouth and he feels his face heat in embarrassment even as he says it.

“Of course I love you.” He snaps and Richie goes quiet, real quiet, and Eddie chances a glance at him and sees him looking at Eddie with some kind of emotion that Eddie hasn't seen from him.

“What?!” He gets defensive as he panics and Richie's expression morphs into a more familiar one as he grabs Eddie's hand, tangling their fingers together.

“You’re so cute Eddie, it’s actually unbelievable.”

They dissolve into a petty argument after that but Eddie doesn’t miss the fact that Richie’s hand never lets go of his.

-x-

“This friend of yours that you care about,” His therapist starts.

“Richie. His,” he clears his throat before continuing, “His name is Richie.”

She smiles and writes it down on the clipboard in her lap, “Right, _Richie_ , have you told him how you feel?”

Eddie feels a panic rise in his throat, but he fights it, clearing his throat and asking “What do you mean” as a way to stop from panicking.

“You’ve expressed before that you’re gay,” She continues easily like she didn’t just drop a bomb on his whole life, “And the way you talk about Richie leads me to believe you’ve got more than just platonic feelings for him.”

“T...The sexual stuff didn’t give it away?” He asks it in a genuine way even though he wants to be condescending or sarcastic, he thought it would be obvious that he was attracted to Richie based solely on the fact he asked him to sleep with him.

“Not really, no.” She says casually, “There are people who sleep with platonic partners, but judging from your response you agree that there are some romantic feelings there.”

“Yeah, but he’s straight.” And she looks at him in a way that makes him want to huff in annoyance, he instead looks away with a furrowed brow.

“Maybe,” she concedes, “But if he’s doing this for you he loves you and I think you should tell him.” She pauses until he looks at her in apprehension, “When you’re ready.”

Leaving therapy that day has him feeling more confused than ever.

-x-

He thinks on her words as time passes. Month after month and she asks every time if he’s told Richie the truth yet. And every time he tells her ‘no’ but she never pressures him to hurry up and do it.

It’s nearly a year after the rape that he decides he’s going to do it. It’s been a year and he feels ready to finally try sex again. Proper sex. Not just grinding. He wants to touch and be touched and he tells his therapist as much.

“That’s great to hear Eddie.” She smiles and Eddie smiles back, he doesn’t tell her he’s been planning this night for weeks, or that he’s booked a reservation at a nice restaurant and wants to take Richie out for dinner beforehand. That’s just for him to know about.

If it all goes well then, maybe he’ll be able to have sex.

-x-

It...doesn’t go well. Well, that’s not fair because it doesn’t go bad, it just...it doesn’t go according to _plan_. Much like a lot of things regarding Richie, Eddie is thrown a wild curveball and knocked out of his comfort zone.

It starts with Richie telling him he doesn’t feel like going out when Eddie asks him, which makes Eddie sigh and feel a little let down, but it’s fine, he can work with this.

Until he realizes Richie decided he wants to stay home while Mike and Stan are there too, also opting to stay in for the night while the others are away.

“Richie.” Eddie says finally while the other two are in the kitchen making dinner.

“Yeah, what’s up, Eddie?” He’s not even paying attention to him, focused solely on the game he’s playing.

“I wanted to go out tonight.”

“Yeah, but we can go out tomorrow or something. I—fuck!” He slams the controller down on the floor, watching it bounce on the pillows at his feet.

“Why did I think you’d want to do anything remotely romantic?” Eddie huffs, throwing his hands in the air as he stands up.

“Romantic? What?” Richie’s paying attention now, but so are the other two. The sounds from the kitchen are dulled now, and Eddie figures they all already live together, what’s the harm in them knowing what he had planned?

“Yes, Richie, _romantic_. It was supposed to be a date, you fucking _idiot_.” Eddie growls, yanking out his phone from his pocket as he heads towards his bedroom, “Now I have to cancel the reservation I’ve had for weeks. Have fun with your fucking game.”

“Eddie wait—” But he’s closing his door to his room and he knows, he _knows_ he shouldn’t be angry at Richie, it’s not like he knew Eddie wanted to go on a date tonight, but he assumed he would have figured, seeing Eddie dressed up for a fancy night.

Eddie cries, he’s not above admitting it, a part of him knows it’s just an emotional letdown after being keyed up and anxious about this night for weeks, but it still feels like a weakness, like a breakdown and he doesn’t _want_ to have a breakdown, he wants to just...get on with his life.

He’s pulling on his pajama shirt when he hears a soft knock on his door. Barely there and quiet, like the person on the other side is afraid to bother him. He knows he should apologize, so he walks over and opens it slightly. Richie’s on the other side, looking at him a little sheepishly.

“So, listen, if I had known it was going to be a date, I-”

“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. For...several reasons.” He licks his lips and opens his door wider, “C’mon.”

Richie does, shuffling in almost nervously, like he’s afraid he’s in trouble. He sits heavily on the edge of the bed, bouncing his leg with pent up energy.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate before closing the door, not this time, but he does hesitate turning around to face Richie.

“Richie, I’ve been in love with you since we were kids,” He says it with barely any hint of the apprehension he feels in his chest, and he hears the background sound of Richie’s leg bouncing stop immediately, “And tonight, I was going to tell you that on our date. I was also going to tell you, depending on your reaction, that I think I’m ready to try sex again, but now we’re here and I’m terrified to fucking _look_ at you because in public I’m ok not making a scene but in the comfort and confines of my bedroom I’m afraid your rejection will make me throw up or cry and I don’t want to do either of those things. Which is why I’m talking to the fucking door and not your face. Please just fucking say something. I feel like I’m gonna explode if you don’t.”

He barely breathes through his tangent so it’s no wonder he doesn’t hear Richie’s approach behind him.

“Eddie, please look at me.” He jumps a little when he hears how close Richie is to him, but he does as he’s told and turns slowly, he can’t look up at his face, choosing instead to stare down at the floor between them, but he does turn around.

“Eddie.” Richie says it a little more firmly and Eddie swallows, eyes closing tightly in fear for a moment before he looks up at him.

“You’re so fucking stupid sometimes, you know that?” His heart clenches in pain before Richie follows it up with a kiss, pressing him against the door hard enough that the wood rattles and shakes in the frame. Eddie moans into his mouth when Richie slides his thigh between his legs, he pulls back, panting softly against Eddie’s lips, “You think I would ever reject you? How could I? You drive me so fucking crazy.” A whine is pulled from him as Richie mouths at his neck, “Why do you think I was so ready to kiss you? To help you get back into the swing of things? I never thought you’d want me, Eddie. Never thought you’d want anything more than for me to just be your friend.”

Eddie’s head spins as Richie kisses at his neck, sliding his hands under his shirt and Eddie’s stomach jumps a little but Richie’s hands are slow, methodical, in their exploration. “Get this off.” He whispers against Eddie’s skin and he obeys with shaking hands, removing his shirt without a problem.

Richie groans softly when he sees his chest and Eddie feels a flurry of butterflies in his stomach at the sound. He’s not as confident just yet, but he still reaches out and touches at Richie’s shirt, tugging gently.

“Let me see.” He whispers and Richie shrugs his own shirt off. Eddie laughs a little when it catches on his glasses, knocking them askew and messing up his hair worse than it was.

Eddie runs his hands slowly along Richie’s body, reveling in the feel of his hair. He still sorta feels like a wolf, even in this form, he’s soft and warm and Eddie shivers, rocking his hips forwards against Richie’s thigh.

“C’mon, Eds.” He says it so softly while backing away that Eddie is confused for a moment before he follows after him, nearly bouncing on his feet to keep up as Richie walks backwards towards the bed. He sits down and pulls Eddie onto his lap. Neither has removed their pants yet, even as the pressure becomes constricting and uncomfortable for Eddie while they kiss again. When they break away for air Eddie can feel a small string of spit connect their mouths and he licks his lips, breaking it and shivering at the feeling of it on his tongue.

“Richie, I want…” He trails off into a moan as Richie mouths at his throat, teeth gently grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Tell me, Eddie baby, tell me what you want.” He’s smirking against Eddie’s skin, knowing full well what he’s doing, and it just encourages Eddie to speak.

“I want your cock in me, Richie.” He’s breathless and he can _feel_ the groan Richie lets out. His hips rocking up against Eddie’s ass as he grips his hips a little tighter.

“Fuck, Eds.” Richie’s voice sounds strained and it makes Eddie grin, he loves how easy it is to make Richie fall apart, “Alright, ok. Can I see you?” Richie’s fingers toy with the drawstring on his pants, dipping into the waistband and touching Eddie’s heated flesh.

It’s scary, this part, but he knows it’s just Richie and Richie won’t hurt him. He inhales shakily before climbing off Richie’s lap. He’s hesitant now, and Richie watches him carefully.

“Eddie, it’s okay, you don’t—”

“Shut up.” Eddie bites out before pulling his pants down without any flare. He stares at the ceiling so he doesn’t have to look at Richie or his own hard and leaking cock. He can feel precome pooling at the tip, leaking down the shaft and probably dripping onto his floor. He’ll have to clean that up later.

“Huh,” Richie says and Eddie’s eyes snap to him, he’s smirking with an eyebrow raised, “Deer sure do have interesting looking dicks.”

“Yeah? What’s your wolf-dick look like then?” Eddie crosses his arms, he’s sure his petulant facial expression is thwarted by his hard cock but that’s fine because in a second it doesn’t matter. Richie stands and pulls his own pants off.

“Holy shit.” Is all Eddie can say when he takes in the way Richie’s dick sticks out at an almost perfect 90 degree angle from his body. He doesn’t have a sheath in this form, but his dick still looks like a wolf’s, pointed at the tip with a thick swell at the base where his knot is already starting to form. It’s...it’s not big lengthwise, Eddie’s is longer, but it’s thick and Eddie’s feeling a little apprehensive suddenly.

“Richie, that...your dick is _huge_ what the fuck?” Richie preens under the praise, gripping his cock at the base and stroking upwards once.

“Haha, yea it is. You still want it?” Eddie thinks he meant to sound seductive but instead he just sounds concerned, like he’s genuinely thinking about Eddie’s well-being, and he probably is, which means Eddie is absolutely certain he wants this.

“Yeah. Just—”

“Slow?” Richie teases as Eddie walks closer again, and Eddie smiles, wrapping his arms around Richie’s neck, kissing at his jaw.

“Slow.” And then they're kissing again, and Richie is laying back on the bed, pulling Eddie into his lap. When their dicks slide across each other, no longer having the barrier of clothing, Eddie throws his head back and groans, low and loud into the still air of his bedroom.

“Fuck Eddie, make that sound again.” Richie pants, thrusting his hips up to cause the delicious friction that has Eddie’s chest tightening in pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Eddie whines, looking down and seeing the way his cock is drooling precome onto Richie’s. It shines softly in the dim light of the setting sun outside his curtained window and he whimpers, jerking his hips to watch the way it slides so easily along their lengths.

“That’s so fucking hot, Eddie, holy shit.” Eddie’s glance up shows him that Richie is staring too, watching the way their cocks slot perfectly together.

“I need you in me.” Eddie whispers into Richie’s ear and the effect is instant. Richie growls softly, all wolf, and spins them so Eddie’s on his back underneath him, “Top drawer.” Eddie speaks before Richie can even ask when he pulls back. That earns him a grin but Richie stays uncharacteristically silent while he gets the lube and a condom out.

“I, uh, I don’t need a condom.” Eddie says it softly, averting his eyes, “I’ve always wanted you to...you know...without one.”

“Fuck Eddie, you’re _killing_ me.” It’s Richie’s turn to whine and Eddie laughs a little, “Let’s use one this time, then next time I can go without one if you want.”

 _Next time._ Eddie’s heart races at the idea of there being a next time.

“Yeah, yeah alright.” Eddie agrees, licking his lips in nervous excitement.

The position is different now, than it was that night, with Eddie facing Richie on his back, but he’s still scared. His leg bounces with nervous energy, shaking damn near the whole mattress. Richie’s hand is warm on his knee, stilling him and his fidgeting.

“Eddie, we don’t have to do anything else.” He says it softly, placing the lube and condom on the bed so he can caress Eddie’s face, “Baby, we don’t have to do anything more than this. Us grinding against each other or me touching you, if you want. We don’t have to go any further than what we’re doing right here.”

“I know.” Eddie croaks out, voice hoarse and tight with anxiety, so he clears his throat once before he tries to speak again, “I know I don’t _have_ to. I _want_ to. I’ve always wanted you and I feel more ready than I have in a long time. I’m...I won’t lie Richie, I’m _terrified._ I am so scared right now that I might cry, but I _trust_ you. I know you won’t hurt me and I want to at least _try._ Please.”

Richie smiles and leans forward, pressing his lips against Eddie’s in a soft kiss, rubbing his thumb along Eddie’s jaw until he sighs, mouth opening a little in a gasp, Richie takes full advantage of that and slides his tongue into Eddie’s mouth, it’s slow and deep enough that Eddie idly wonders if Richie’s trying to choke him with his tongue.

By the time Richie pulls away, forehead pressed gently against Eddie’s, Eddie’s a lot more relaxed, his body feels lighter and looser than before.

“Ok Eddie, let’s try it then.” He whispers, kissing him gently one more time before leaning back again and grabbing the lube again. Eddie hears the gentle snap of the plastic as Richie opens it, he makes a face and Eddie rolls his eyes, “A little fruity smelling isn’t it?”

“I like the scent of peaches, so sue me.”

“Eddie, is...is this flavored lube?” Richie ignores his comment as he looks at the bottle of lube in his hand.

“...Yes? I thought—oh my god, _Richie_.” Eddie gasps his name out as he watches Richie, pour some lube onto his fingers before he sticks them into his mouth while looking Eddie dead in the eye. He slides off his fingers with a wet pop and a devious grin.

“Not bad, a little too sweet for me.” He pours some more onto his fingers— _the same ones he just had in his mouth_ , Eddie thinks a little hysterically—and offers them to Eddie, resting them against his lips lightly, “What do _you_ think, Eds?”

Eddie can almost feel the look on his face, the way his pupils dilate with arousal and lust and he smirks before gently grabbing Richie’s wrist to hold it in place while he runs his tongue slowly along his fingers. He chases the sticky sweetness of the lube, an artificial peach flavor that doesn’t have the slight sting that real peaches do.

He slides Richie’s fingers into his mouth deeper, sliding his tongue between them, letting his eyes close as he moans around the digits, sucking them into his mouth until he can almost feel them in his throat. He slides his eyes open halfway and feels like a piece of meat with the way Richie’s looking at him, and sucks until all he tastes is his own saliva and the sweat from Richie’s fingers in his mouth.

He pulls off of Richie’s fingers with a soft sigh, “Nah, not for me either.” He whispers and Richie makes a pained little noise in his throat.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Eddie.” Eddie feels a flutter in his chest when he sees Richie fumble with the lube to properly coat his fingers this time.

“Sorry,” He whispers sheepishly, ducking his head slightly and smiling shyly.

“Fuck, don’t apologize to _me_ , apologize to my _dick,_ Eds.”

“Sorry little Richie.” He coos with a smirk and Richie laughs as he gets his fingers lubed up again.

“He ain’t little, babe.”

Eddie’s apprehensive suddenly as Richie’s fingers trail down to his ass, he licks his lips, soft remark swallowed down by fear suddenly.

“Eds, it’s alright, we’re going slow, remember?” Richie says it so soft and sweet that Eddie can’t help but nod shakily.

“Yeah, slow.” He echoes softly, and then he gasps as Richie’s finger slides in to the first knuckle, it’s not much, just a little, but the breach has him tensing and closing his eyes tightly, he wants to snap his legs closed, but he breathes instead, shaky and shallow but he’s trying.

“Easy Eddie, it’s just me, remember?” Richie’s voice is in his ear, soft and calm and Eddie takes a deep breath, swallowing past the lump that’s formed in his throat.

“You feel good, Eddie, so good.” He whispers and it helps, using his name, it grounds him, reminds him it’s just Richie.

Eddie can’t speak but he keeps his breathing even and deep, his eyes are still clenched tightly closed, his fist balled in the sheets under him.

“It’s just me, sweetheart, it’s alright.” Richie whispers, using his free hand to gently caress Eddie’s face, “I’m gonna slide my finger in further okay, Eddie?”

“Okay,” Eddie whimpers, and then he snaps his eyes open and licks his lips, “Can you—?”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead wildly grabbing at Richie’s dry hand, tangling their fingers together.

“Of course, Eds.” Richie kisses his forehead and Eddie feels him slide his finger all the way in, and he pants softly, eyes sliding closed, but not in terror this time. It’s just Richie, he wouldn’t ever hurt Eddie, not on purpose.

It’s slow going. Richie is delicate and gentle with him, whispering encouragement and squeezing his hand from time to time, pressing his lips gently to Eddie’s forehead and temple as he slides one finger in and out of him over and over, until Eddie is writhing gently against his hand.

“Richie.” He whines and Richie laughs softly.

“God Eds, you’re fucking gorgeous.” Richie whispers against his hairline before kissing there gently, “I’m gonna add a second finger, alright?”

“Fuck, yes, _please_ Rich.”

“Easy, Eddie.” Richie shushes him gently and then Eddie feels a second finger beside the first. They press in slowly and Eddie kicks himself for waiting so long to do this. He can feel himself coming undone under Richie’s fingers and he’s not even doing much of anything yet.

And then he starts moving them, in and out, scissoring and stretching them, and Eddie whines, needy and desperate and Richie squeezes his hand, he pants above Eddie, breath hot against his skin. “Fucking beautiful, Eddie, you’re so fucking hot.”

“Richie, I need you, please I—” He sobs in desperation, voice high and tight as he grinds down against Richie’s fingers.

“Shit, slow down Eddie, we have time.”

“ _No_ , I want your fucking _cock_ , Richie.” Eddie snarls, biting at Richie’s lip in a messy kiss, free hand letting go of the sheets and instead tangling in Richie’s hair, “Fuck me.”

“No Eddie, we’re going slow.” But he doesn’t sound soft and gentle this time, he sounds almost like he’s enjoying it, seeing Eddie come apart like this under his fingers.

“Fucking tease.” Eddie groans, throat bared as he throws his head back. Richie continues his slow and methodical preparation, but Eddie can tell he’s getting desperate too, he can feel the precome from Richie’s dick pooling on his stomach. He glances down and chokes out a moan, his stomach is a mess, slick and wet from their dicks both leaking onto his body.

“ _Richie,_ ” His voice sounds broken to his own ears and Richie takes pity on him, he slides a third finger into Eddie but he doesn’t add lube to do so and Eddie is grateful for the intrusion until he feels the burn of it being slightly too dry. Suddenly the air is forced from his lungs and he wheezes, panic seizing his chest. His eyes close tightly and he whimpers softly as he turns his head into the pillow, throat feeling tight.

“Eddie baby, it’s alright. It’s just me.” Richie whispers, “Can you let go of my hand? Just for a second so I can add more lube, honey, it’s alright, my hand will come right back.”

He forces his fingers to release Richie’s hand, gasping slowly as he tries not to hyperventilate. Richie moves fast, keeping his hand in place and still inside Eddie as he pours more lube onto the area where his fingers slide into Eddie’s body, the cool liquid is a shock to his system and it grounds him. He focuses on the way some of it slides down and pools under him, getting his ass soaked under his body.

He inhales shakily as Richie starts moving his fingers again and whines, reaching for his hand once more.

“I know, Eds, I’m here.” Richie whispers as he holds his hand again, and the effect is almost immediate, he relaxes, his body losing a lot of the tension it had before.

“I’m sorry.” He chokes out, voice tight with residual fear.

“Shh, there’s nothing to apologize for Eddie, you’re doing great.” Richie laughs softly, breath ghosting across his forehead and easing his tension further, “You’re almost ready, you sure you want to go further?”

He asks it so casually, like he isn’t hard and leaking onto Eddie’s stomach, like he isn’t three fingers deep in his ass—stretching him for said cock that’s leaking and that has Eddie’s mouth watering with need—like he isn’t torturing Eddie with every curl of his fingers that brush against his prostate.

“Yes,” Eddie can hear himself drawing out the ‘s’ as he tilts his head back again, rocking against Richie’s fingers eagerly. Richie hums happily as he finishes his preparation and removes his fingers, pulling a whine from Eddie’s throat as he does so.

“Y’know Eds, you’re gonna feel my knot. Know what that means?” He says conversationally as he rips open the condom with his teeth, he rolls the condom on with one hand and Eddie feels his heart swell with adoration as he doesn’t even ask to remove his hand again.

“N-no. What’s it mean?” Eddie asks, trying to calm his racing heart by speaking.

It works, until Richie looks at him with a wolfish grin that has lust coursing through him. Then he feels his cock twitch in excitement.

“It means, sweet little Eddie,” Richie purrs, guiding the head of his cock to Eddie’s stretched hole and gently pressing the tip against him, “It’ll sit nice and heavy right on your prostate.”

That has a moan being pulled from his throat as his cock twitches against his stomach again. But then his brain catches up with the events and Eddie fights every instinct to clench down as Richie teases at his hole.

“I’m gonna push in now Eds, alright? Just a little. If it’s too much you tell me, sweetheart.” His voice is soft and soothing and Eddie squeezes his hand and closes his eyes, afraid to look at Richie, but he nods anyway.

It’s not as bad as he expects. At some point Richie had applied more lube, and the slide is easy, he slowly relaxes, evening out his breathing. He licks his lips as he opens his eyes halfway.

“How you doin’?” Richie whispers, his voice is so calm and familiar that Eddie smiles, no longer afraid.

“I’m alright.” And he sounds out of it even to his own ears, he doesn’t sound stressed or scared. Strung out? Yes, _absolutely_ , but he’s not frightened, “C...can you push in more?”

“Well, since you’re asking so nicely, I think I can arrange that for you.” He teases, voice light, Eddie watches as he licks his lips before gently pushing in further. He tries to stop again, to give Eddie time to adjust but Eddie smirks mischievously, sliding his legs up around Richie’s waist and pulling him close, shoving him in deeper and making them both moan.

“Eddie, _fucking Christ_ ,” Richie pants, eyes half closed and glasses fogged. Eddie grins, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his mouth.

“H-how deep are y—” He’s cut off with a choked sound as he feels Richie slide in just a little more and then their bodies are flush against each other. The barely-there knot at the base of Richie’s cock has him feeling like he can’t breathe. He feels so full and stretched and _vulnerable_.

“Eddie? Eds? You with me, sweetheart?” Richie whispers, gently squeezing his hand. Eddie can’t form words, especially not when Richie shifts and Eddie feels a groan pulled from his throat as his eyes roll back and he wheezes out a breath.

“Are you alright for me to move?” Richie asks and when he gets no response he says instead, “Squeeze my hand if you’re okay or I’m gonna pull out, babe.”

Eddie squeezes his hand as tight as he can, he doesn’t want this to ever stop. That night he felt cold and dirty, now he just feels warm and safe. He feels heat that pools in his stomach and warms his chest as he gasps out heavy breaths.

Richie kisses at his face, whispering soft words that Eddie’s brain can’t quite comprehend. He finally comes back to his body. He can feel where they’re connected, it’s where the heat is the strongest. Richie feels like fire inside his body, like a red hot iron branding him, splitting him in half. He regulates his breathing as his brain finally kicks back into action.

“Fucking stunning, you’re beautiful and amazing Eds, I love you so fucking much you make me crazy.”

“Feeling’s mutual, asshole.” He whispers back and Richie smiles, exhaling a soft laugh.

“You here now?”

“Yeah, your dick just about broke me.”

“That’s a shame considering we haven’t even started yet.” Richie pauses, his grin softening into a gentler smile, “You still alright? You okay for me to move?”

“Yeah.” Eddie clears his throat, “Yeah, just, slow?”

“Slow.” Richie nods and then he starts moving, gentle rocking where he doesn’t even pull out much before thrusting back into him. Each push in has Richie’s swelling knot pressing hard against his prostate, making his legs jerk and twitch around Richie’s waist.

“Fuck, Richie, so fucking good.” Eddie gasps, his free hand grabbing at Richie’s hair to pull him close and kiss him. It’s messy, sloppy, uncoordinated, but it’s _them._

 _They’re_ messy and sloppy and uncoordinated, but Richie _understands_ Eddie. That revelation has Eddie sobbing softly and Richie stops immediately.

“Don’t stop, I just love you so fucking much, Richie.” He hurries, whimpering out a broken explanation.

“Aw, babe, I love you too. Let’s get off so we can cuddle, yeah?” Richie grins but Eddie can see the emotions behind his eyes, watery and open.

“Yeah, fuck me, Richie.” Eddie whispers, kissing at the corner of his mouth, “Knot in me, baby.”

“Eddie you can’t just fucking _say_ shit like that.” Richie whines.

“Yeah, well, I just _did_.” He rocks his hips up, encouraging Richie to move, “So fucking _get to_ _it_.”

Richie keeps the slow pace but it’s harder when he starts moving again. His half-formed knot slides out and back in, stretching him each time and making him feel empty until he’s sliding hard back into his waiting body. Each push in has Eddie feeling like the air is being punched from his lungs.

He has a death grip on Richie’s hand by his head. Not because he’s afraid but because he’s afraid if he doesn’t cling to him like a lifeline he’ll float away. He feels so fucking free finally, and his inability to breathe isn’t from fear for the first time in his life.

He’s moaning, he thinks, each shove into his body has him exhaling a soft sound that tries to get stuck in his throat. Richie presses hot kisses to his neck, his teeth grazing his skin gently, and even with the gentle touch it feels like electricity, crackling along his body and setting him on fire. He feels loose and light and warm. He feels distant from his body like he’s not in control of himself, but in this case it doesn’t frighten him. He feels safe here in the easy and deep rhythm of Richie sliding into him. And then he’s snapped back to the present as Richie’s cock slams into his prostate.

He arches off the bed, a keening whine escaping his mouth and making Richie laugh breathlessly.

“Fuck Eddie, that sound was so sweet, let’s get that noise from you again.” And then Richie’s slamming into him properly and Eddie can’t breathe in the _best_ way. Every exhale is a whine, his throat feels raw even as he’s being fucked into the bed.

He grabs blindly for Richie’s face, trying to press a kiss to his mouth and missing, panting against his cheek instead.

“R-Richie, I—” He isn’t sure if he’s speaking, he thinks he is and he needs Richie to know what he’s feeling, “I—” He sobs as Richie kisses him properly.

“C’mon Eds, you can let go.” And Eddie shakes his head because, _yeah_ he wants to come, of _course_ he does, but that’s not what he’s trying to say.

“I l-love— _aahngh_ —y-you.” He finally gasps it out and then all he cares about is chasing his orgasm. Thrusting up against Richie to try and get him deeper as he feels the knot swelling properly and Richie’s thrusts get gentler.

“I know baby, I know. It’s okay. I love you too.” Richie whispers, so soft and sweet that Eddie cries out, “I’m gonna come Eddie baby. So I’m gonna knot in you now, alright? It’s gonna stretch you and it might hurt but I’ll be here, pretty boy.”

Eddie nods whining softly as he pulls on Richie’s hair, pushing him closer, “Please.”

Eddie feels Richie’s fingers against his hole and he relaxes as Richie spreads him just a little more and then Eddie _moans_. A sound that comes from deep in his chest and that their _neighbors_ can probably hear.

Because he feels the knot slide into his body and it pushes him over the edge, he comes untouched and he comes _hard._ It paints his chest and stomach, his cock twitching from overstimulation almost immediately after he comes.

Richie is panting softly, his forehead pressed against Eddie’s and Eddie can feel his own body shaking and twitching as his muscles spasm in his legs. He isn’t sure what happens but he knows he passes out for at least a moment because when he comes to Richie is smiling down at him fondly, leaned back just a little to press gentle kisses against his face and neck.

“How you feelin’?”

“Mmm, good.” Eddie can _hear_ his own voice and it sounds awful in his ears, deep and wrecked and his throat is scratchy. But he does feel good, he feels great even.

“Yeah?” Richie smiles and then presses a kiss to the tip of his nose.

And then they sit happily in silence for a while, just happy with being close. Richie gently eases Eddie’s legs off his hips, rubbing lightly to ease the tension left in them. They’re still knotted, still holding hands, and Eddie smiles, body heavy and exhausted in a good way.

Eddie can feel the drying tear tracks on his face, can tell he was probably crying for most of this but it wasn’t in fear, not even a little, he’s glad he’s not afraid of Richie anymore.

His phone buzzes softly on the nightstand and he groans softly. Richie reaches for it and offers it to him.

“Noo, you read it to me.” Eddie grumbles, burying his face into Richie’s neck. Richie laughs and kisses the side of his face before he maneuvers around with his one free hand, turning to face the phone in an awkward way. Eddie could make things easier on him but he doesn’t really want to.

“Stan texted,” He can already hear the laughter in his voice, “He says ‘I’m happy for you guys, but also fuck you for making me and Mike have to listen to it. Also dinner’s been ready for like 20 minutes. I’m not heating it up for you or bringing it to you.’ What an asshole.”

Eddie laughs, he’s happy here, held by the love of his life while two of his best friends tease him about it.

He knows it’s still going to take a while to completely heal, he doesn’t actually know if he’ll ever be _completely_ healed and better, but in bed with Richie—who’s currently calling Stan and bothering him about how he “deserves dinner in bed after being fucked within an inch of his life, Staniel”—it feels manageable and maybe, for now, that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Hii, this has been a labor of love. I have never worked so long on something, a whole month of writing has birthed this beast. So! I hope you guys like it! It was...partially an excuse to write Richie knotting in Eddie so that’s a thing I’m into lmao. 
> 
> Anyway as a work, it’s something that’s very personal to me and helped me through some stuff. 
> 
> The title comes from the song _Putting The Dog to Sleep_ by The Antlers (it’s a very Reddie song to me)
> 
> Feel free to throw questions at me on [tumblr](https://stunt-lads.tumblr.com/) for this universe! I might revisit it or I can answer any questions y’all might have.


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